The alarm blared, red lights flashing wildly throughout the lab. You stood by the control panel, eyes fixed on Minho, unconscious and strapped to the table. Wires were connected to his head, feeding vital data into the system. This was your responsibility. Your father, Janson, had made it clear how important this research was. You couldn’t let it be destroyed.

Then the door slid open with a hiss, and Thomas and Newt stepped inside, guns raised. Your heart skipped a beat, but you forced yourself to stay calm, lifting your hands away from the controls as Thomas’s voice sliced through the tension.

“Step away from the controls.”

You didn’t speak. Slowly, carefully, you raised both hands, palms facing them. Your arms were stiff as if moving too quickly would make everything fall apart. The motion was slow, deliberate, showing them you wouldn’t fight—though every muscle in your body screamed to resist

Thomas’s gaze locked on Minho, and without hesitation, he crossed the room, lifting his unconscious body from the table. Your breath hitched, but you didn’t move. Newt stepped up behind you, his grip firm on your arm, and pressed the cold barrel of his gun to your temple.

“You’re coming with us,” Newt said, his voice tight with urgency.

The pressure in your chest tightened, and for a moment, you struggled with the conflict inside you. But you couldn’t stop them—not now.

Thomas glanced back at you, his eyes cold but resolute. “We’re getting him out, one way or another.”

With the gun pressed against your temple, your body tensed. You swallowed, taking a slow breath. There was no fighting this. They would get Minho, whether you liked it or not.

“Move,” Thomas ordered.

You stepped toward the door, unlocking it with a shaky hand. Every part of you wanted to resist, but you knew there was no other choice. You were leading them to their escape. Everything you had worked for, everything your father had built, was slipping away. And you couldn’t do a thing to stop it.